


Batter Up

by Millennial_Medusa



Series: PJO/HOO Baseball AU [7]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Oral, Shameless Smut, With a little bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 16:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15271710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millennial_Medusa/pseuds/Millennial_Medusa
Summary: " “Wanna see the dugout?”She has always wanted to, actually, just because she’d never been in one, but the mischievous glint in his eyes tells her he plans to satisfy more than just her curiosity. She nods, and soon he’s leading her back through dark hallways, making a pit stop at the locker room to return his bat and helmet, and stepping out onto the field. "Travis sneaks Katie into the batting cages after hours for a little one on one coaching.





	Batter Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is...literally just an excuse for me to write Tratie smut.
> 
> Baseball AU, takes place early in Travis and Katie's sophomore year (Percy & Annabeth's junior year).

“This is a terrible idea.”

“You always say that when I talk you into this kind of thing, and you always have a great time.”

“Usually your plans don’t involve breaking and entering, Stoll.”

Travis shoots her an affronted look over his shoulder. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key, Gardner. It’s just… _entering._ ”

Katie rolls her eyes but follows him into the locker room, and Travis heads over to the locker that evidently belongs to him to grab his bat and helmet. 

Katie, meanwhile, studies her surroundings. She’s never been in the locker room, and while she’d assumed it would be messy and sweaty and small, it’s actually…nice. In fact, it’s more than nice; it’s _luxurious._

The room is large and carpeted, with a fairly high ceiling and bright lights. Ringing three of the walls are open wooden lockers, each almost the size of her whole closet, with drawers at the bottom and a shelf and cabinet up above. Each locker is neat and organized, the uniforms actually looking clean, to Katie’s surprise (she didn’t think guys knew how to properly clean and hang up their clothes…). In front of each is a cushioned folding chair, and four large TV screens are placed around the room above the lockers. 

In the center of the room, facing outward, is a ring of plush leather chairs. The fourth wall, next to the double doors they’d entered through, is covered by an enormous whiteboard. It had been wiped clean now, but Katie could imagine Chiron standing there, drawing out plays and lecturing the team. She’d only met him once, but she figures he must be good at that sort of thing. After all, she’d nearly mistaken him for a professor before Travis had told her otherwise. 

At the far end of the room is an open doorway she assumes leads to the showers. Katie feels her feet pulling her towards them; if this part of the locker room is covered in leather chairs and plasma screens, imagine how incredible those showers must be…

“Where are you going?” Travis’s voice is suddenly next to her, startling her. 

She turns to gaze at the rest of the room, still in awe. “This is nicer than my entire house, Travis. I wanna see all the fancy gadgets you’ve got in the showers.”

Travis laughs, a sound that never fails to draw a smile from her even when it’s at her own expense. Then his hand wraps around hers and tugs her back towards the entrance, causing her to let out an impatient huff.

“Another time, Katie-cat,” he reassures at her sound of displeasure. 

Suddenly he stops and turns, and before she can take a breath he’s kissing her, right in the center of the locker room in the middle of the night. His free hand leaves hers and wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She hums as his tongue parts her lips and runs along the edge of her teeth, her hands fisting in the front of his shirt. 

And then—oh, _God_ —his mouth is pressing featherlight kisses along her jawline, following the path up until he’s tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue and Katie’s breath is coming in pants and—

“Maybe,” he whispers, his voice deep and rough and sending shivers down her spine, “if you’re good, I’ll sneak you into the showers with me after a game and fuck you in them.”

Katie lets out a shuddering sigh and presses herself harder against him. Not one to let him keep the upper hand for long, however, she quickly counters, “Sounds like you’ve thought about that before,” though her own breathlessness takes most of the bite out of it. 

“Maybe once or twice. But I’ve got other plans for you tonight.” Travis presses his lips to hers again, once. Then just as suddenly as the kiss had started it’s over, and he pulls her out the double doors and through dark hallways, grinning like a madman.

A very cute madman, Katie concedes, but a madman nonetheless.

Just as she begins to think she might be able to get her bearings, they step out into a batting cage. Before she can protest Travis settles his helmet onto her head—“Gross,” she mutters, but he just rolls his eyes at her because of _course_ he does that _asshole_ —and presses his bat into her hand. She expects him to step up behind her, give her some cheesy advice on how to hold the bat as an excuse to wrap his arms around her and breathe down her neck, because that's exactly the sort of thing he'd do, but instead he leaves her with the bat dangling from one hand.

“Um…Travis?”

He’s across the cage from her now, picking up a ball and inspecting it. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

He looks up from his ball and fixes her with a confused frown. “I’m getting ready to pitch to you…?”

“Isn’t that what that thing’s for?” she asks, gesturing to the electronic pitcher next to him. 

Travis, much to Katie’s surprise, laughs. 

“That’s a good one, babe, but those things pitch fast. I mean, really fast. I’m just gonna pitch you some soft ones,” he explains.

Katie feels her hackles raising. “I don’t need you to ‘pitch me some soft ones,’ _babe,_ ” she snarls. “It can’t be that hard, little kids play baseball.”

Travis’s eyebrows raise as he scoffs at her. “Yeah, little kids bat off a tee, and you’ve never batted before in your life.”

“Just turn on the damn machine, Stoll.” She gets into a crude approximation of a batting stance and nods firmly, pointedly ignoring the amused look Travis sends her.

Katie knows she’s being silly, of course. She’s been watching baseball long enough to recognize just how difficult of a sport baseball is, and how many hours a week of work and practice it takes for the guys to reach the level they’re at. She also knows it’s ridiculous to get defensive when Travis is right—she’s never even held a baseball bat. 

But oh, she hates nothing quite like people babying her. After all, just because she wears makeup and pretty dresses and sings to her many, many plants doesn’t mean she isn’t capable of doing things herself. Especially things like…like hitting a dumb baseball!

As it turns out, she cannot hit a dumb baseball—at least, not when it’s shot out of a machine and flying towards her at 90 miles an hour. She can’t even swing at it. Instead, she shrieks and jumps out of the ball’s path, which sends Travis into a fit of giggles and irritates her further. 

He catches the stormy look on her face and throws his hands up in an attempt to placate her, gasping, “I’m sorry! Sorry, just…” before dissolving back into laughter. 

Katie’s face still burns red, but she feels her anger starting to dissipate as he jogs over to her. 

“Let me show you how to hold the bat,” he says, finally getting his breathing under control as he crosses behind her. 

And _there_ is the cheesy romcom move she's been looking for, where the man slides his arms innocently around the unsuspecting damsel and they share a heated moment. Travis's version, while not entirely innocent, is actually more purposeful and clinical than she would've suspected from the boy who literally tugged on her hair to get her attention. His arms come up on either side of her, adjusting her grip on the bat and gently moving her arms into the right position. She can feel his entire body pressed against her back, warm and inviting, and he's giving her a lecture about her stance and how to swing but she's having trouble focusing on his voice with his breath ghosting over the back of her neck. 

She really hadn't expected _her_ to be the one caught up in the cheesiest possible trope while Travis focused on _baseball_. She's better than this! Since when did one touch from him send her spiraling?

(She determinedly ignores the times in class when he'd lean forward to whisper something and she'd force down a shiver at the sensation of his breath making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Or the times he'd tug her hair and she'd have to yank her mind out of the gutter it had immediately jumped into. Or when he'd—)

“Katie?”

“Hm?”

“Did you get any of that?”

She rolls her eyes and shoves herself backwards, throwing him off of her. “No, but that was kind of the point, right?” She hopes he hasn't noticed the blush creeping up her neck.

Travis barks out a laugh. “Are you suggesting that my intentions are less than pure, Miss Gardner?”

“Why yes, Mister Stoll, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. If you want me to actually learn anything you probably shouldn’t say it with your arms all…wrapped around me and whatnot.”

“So you find it hard to think while I’m touching you?” Travis is grinning and crossing back to his previous position on the other side of the cage. 

“Just throw the ball,” she growls. 

He lobs her an easy shot, much slower than the one that had come from the machine, and she still doesn’t hit it, but there’s also considerably less yelling and jumping. In fact, she manages to swing fairly decently, if she does say so herself. 

“Not bad,” Travis says with a smile. “Try swinging a little earlier this time, and make sure you follow through all the way.”

It takes a few more tries, but eventually Katie manages to hit one—just barely over Travis’s head. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” he asks, but he’s grinning so wide she can tell there was no malice or resentment behind it. 

“If only,” she quips and bounces up and down on her toes. “I hit it this time!”

“I know,” he answers, not even bothering to hide the pride in his voice. “I think you’re a natural batter.”

“Obviously.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and lifts the bat again. “Throw another one.”

They spend a good fifteen minutes or so like that, with Travis giving Katie pointers on her stance and her swing and Katie hitting a ball every few tries, each time as delighted as the last. After years spent watching baseball, it’s thrilling to actually try part of it, and the pride in Travis’s eyes every time she hits a ball is utterly addictive. 

Finally, her arms tire, and she lets the bat dangle from one hand. 

“You done?” Travis asks, jogging over to take the bat from her. 

“For now. My arms are tired,” she says, taking his hand in both of hers and playing with his fingers gently. 

“Wanna see the dugout?”

She has always wanted to, actually, just because she’d never been in one, but the mischievous glint in his eyes tells her he plans to satisfy more than just her curiosity. She nods, and soon he’s leading her back through dark hallways, making a pit stop at the locker room to return his bat and helmet, and stepping out onto the field. 

The sky is black above them but littered with stars, blinking brightly in the distance. Katie has always loved the night, the hush it brings over the world and moonlight streaming peacefully down and dew collecting on leaves. Sometimes she gardens then, sharing the silence with her plants alone, taking solace in their steady presence. 

Tonight she finds herself with an altogether different companion, and the calm that normally washes over her at this hour is replaced by heady excitement as they hurry down the steps and under the cover of the dugout. 

Katie steps in front of Travis and glances around, taking in what she can by the moonlight streaming in from the open side. It’s empty now, a large whiteboard stashed at one side and long benches lining the back. It isn’t anything special, but the way Travis’s hands are skimming up and down her waist makes her heart race. 

He sidles closer, pressing against her back like he’d done in the batting cage, and places a soft kiss at the nape of her neck. His lips linger, tracing up to press behind her ear, and Katie lets out a quiet moan. She can feel him hardening against her, so she presses back, rubbing in a way that has both of them gasping. 

“Travis?” she whispers into the darkness as his teeth graze her skin. 

“Hm?”

She tosses her purse onto the closest bench. “Now that you’ve shown me the dugout…how about you show me something else?”

It’s exactly the type of comment that would normally make her roll her eyes, but it gets a breathy laugh out of him even as he twirls her in his arms to face him, so she decides it was absolutely worth it. 

Immediately he has her pressed up against the wall, kissing her hard and desperate, and she’s kissing him back, running her hands under the hem of his shirt and feeling his skin hot under her fingertips. 

One of Travis’s hands grips her waist while the other skims up the back of her neck to cup her cheek, tilting her head back at just the right angle before pressing her chin down with his thumb. Her mouth falls open under his so he can slide his tongue hotly against hers and _fuck,_ Travis could drink her dry. 

Normally Katie likes to be in charge. She tends to be bossy by nature, so letting someone else run the show in bed isn’t something she’s ever been prone to, but since Travis is just as turned on by her teasing commands as she is, it works out well for both of them. Every once in a while, though, he would flip the situation and push her against a wall or bend her over a table and Katie’s lungs would catch fire because damn, he could really take charge when he’s in the mood. Apparently this is one of those times, and she isn’t about to complain; maybe it’s the home field advantage that has him going. 

His skilled fingers are rubbing at just the right spot on the back of her neck and his tongue is wreaking havoc on her state of mind and then it isn’t enough, not _nearly_ enough and she tugs on his belt loops and grinds down on his thigh wedged between her own and whimpers into his mouth, and he must finally get the message because his hand slides from her waist down to the hem of her skirt. He plays with the fabric for a moment and Katie wants to scream at him to move, but then the hand slips underneath and skims up her thigh. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love your dresses?” Travis whispers hotly against her lips, barely audible over Katie’s harsh pants as his thumb circles on the inside of her thigh, so close, so, _so_ close to where she needs him. 

“You just— _oh_ …y-you just like that you can get your hands under them so easily,” she retorts, but then he’s rubbing her over her already damp panties and words become much more difficult to formulate.

Travis bites down lightly on her neck, drawing a high pitched whine from the back of her throat. “You don’t seem to mind too much. In fact,” he pushes the fabric of her panties to the side and drags a finger through her folds and up to rub languid circles on her clit, his finger slick with her arousal, “looks to me like you’re enjoying it even more than I am.”

Katie knows that somewhere in the hazy mess of her mind there’s a witty retort to that, but Travis’s finger is sliding into her, quickly followed by another, and any trace of a clever remark vanishes entirely. She focuses instead on swallowing the moan rising in her throat as his clever fingers work her slowly, his calculated movements taking her apart. She lifts her leg and wraps it around his upper thigh. She uses it to drag him in closer, and his free hand settles on the bare skin and begins tracing patterns over it.

“Fuck,” she gasps when his fingers scissor inside her, stretching her open deliciously. She grips his wrist with one hand and his shoulder with the other, getting the leverage necessary to grind down and fuck herself harder onto his fingers. “ _God,_ Travis, give me more.”

Knowing him, Katie half expected a little teasing from him at a comment like that, even making her beg (he had such a thing about that on the rare occasions he could get it), but his patience must have already been wearing thin because his fingers start thrusting into her harder and faster, crooking just perfectly to rub the spot inside her that sends shocks of heat coursing through her. And then she’s shaking apart around his fingers and gasping his name, her eyes screwed shut as she rides out the crest of the wave.

Travis kisses her again, not gently, but it grounds her as his fingers slow and then withdraw.

It takes a couple minutes for Katie to fully recover, but once she has she pushes hard on Travis’s shoulders, spinning them so he’s the one pressed against the wall of the dugout. She keeps her mouth fused to his, swallowing his surprised but appreciative groan, and she happily follows the grinding motions against his hips that his hands on her ass are guiding her in. Her mouth dips to latch onto the soft skin just under his jaw, tongue dabbing at his pulse point before sucking in a way that has his hands squeezing and his breath heaving.

“Katie,” he pants, “ _please._ ”

She purrs against his neck, pleased to be back in control. “Please what? Use your words, Travis.”

“Anything,” he groans, his head falling back against the wall with a dull thud as her lips kiss down to his collarbone and her fingers skim the waistband of his jeans. “Whatever you want, I’m dying.”

Katie rolls her eyes lightly, though he can’t see it. “Always so dramatic,” she quips, but she’s undoing his belt. Suddenly his hands leave her ass to help, unbuckling it quickly before she slaps his hands away so she can undo the button and drag down the zipper at her own pace—that is to say, torturously slowly.

“Always such a tease,” Travis complains, but he keeps his hands to his side. Katie figures he knows she’d slow down even more if he tried to rush her; he’s a fast learner and had picked up on that almost immediately. (The first night Katie decided to really draw it out and tease him had been a long one, to say the least…the boy simply could _not_ keep his hands to himself.)

Finally she drags his jeans and boxers down together until they rest around his knees. She kneels in front of him then, and his eyes go comically wide as he watches.

“Hmm,” she muses, gripping him lightly and dragging her thumb over the leaking tip, “I guess I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed that. You like getting me off, Stoll?” She drags her hand down the shaft and twists, and his breathing turns ragged and loud.

“Fuck, yeah. Always.” His hands are twitching at his sides, scrabbling at the wall behind him and clenching as she presses a trail of kisses down the side of his cock. “Definitely one of my favorite things to do.”

Katie laughs at that and he grins down at her, but she knows he’s serious; he certainly spends more time with his hands or mouth between her legs than any other guy she’s dated.

“That works out well for both of us.” She promptly wraps her lips around the tip of his cock and brushes her tongue along the slit, replacing what she’s sure would’ve been a snarky retort from him with a strangled moan. She takes him deeper in her mouth and grips the base with both hands. His eyes fall shut and he pants, hands scrabbling for purchase along the back wall, so she reaches out and grabs his hand with one of her own. He glances down and meets her gaze as she drags it to the back of her head in silent encouragement, and his hands immediately tangle in her hair.

“Fuck,” he whispers softly, keeping his eyes on hers as she bobs her head and watches him through her lashes. She hums around him in agreement and his hands tighten in her hair. She works him up slowly, teasing, drawing it out until she can hear the faint needy whines in the back of his throat he tries to stifle. He's pulsing hotly, and Katie can't say she loves having a dick in her mouth, but watching him fall apart under her is something she doesn't think she'll ever tire of. 

She takes him deep and sucks then, reveling in his strangled moan and the way his fingers tug. 

“God, _Katie,_ I— _stop,_ ” he yelps, pulling harder on her hair until her mouth slides off of him with a wet pop. 

“What?” she asks with a coy smile, keeping her hands stroking at a steady pace. His hands flex again at the back of her head.

“That was about to be over way too soon, and I’m not done with you yet.” He pulls her to her feet and kisses her, letting one hand slide down to the small of her back and press her against him while the other palmed her breast over the material of her dress.

“Condom,” she pants when they break apart and Travis has started sucking and biting at her collarbone in a way that’s sure to leave a mark. 

He nods against her neck, laving his tongue over the reddened skin before muttering, “Wallet. Back pocket.” 

Katie reaches back and fishes the wallet out, her hands shaking slightly. He turns them and crowds her against the wall, nipping at the skin behind her ear and tweaking her nipple before sliding his hands up under her dress to peel her panties off, all of which makes tearing open the foil package in her hand much more difficult than it should be.

Finally she gets the condom rolled onto him, and his fingers slide against her once, twice, revving her back up until she half-growls, half-whines his name. He smirks down at her, that awful, infuriating smirk that had been setting anger and arousal alight in her since they first met, and she tugs his hair sharply.

His eyes are impossibly dark, and his lips are just barely brushing against hers and his hands are sliding around to squeeze her ass so she jumps, wrapping her legs around his waist and letting him support her weight. And then finally—oh God, finally, _finally_ —he guides himself to her entrance and pushes in gently.

When he’s fully seated inside her they both pause, and Travis is staring up at her with what Katie deems far too much adoration in his eyes for a fuck against the wall of a baseball dugout, but she can’t help but feel the same way; she kisses him tenderly, hoping he understands what she’s trying to say. She gets the feeling he does.

And then she shifts her hips and opens her mouth against his, and he thrusts into her hard.

“ _Travis,_ ” she whimpers, her hands tangling in his hair, and he growls into her neck. 

“Fuck, babe, you feel so good,” he groans, and the words send shivers down her spine.

He goes slow at first, pumping in and out of her steadily to allow her time to adjust, but it isn’t enough and she’s sighing and finally the soft, “ _please,_ Travis,” she whines against his ear seems to break whatever self control he had left. He braces against the wall with one hand and drives into her, grunting under his breath and attaching his lips to the mark he left earlier. 

Katie gasps, the flames in her core growing hotter with every thrust. Travis is gasping her name and gripping her hip so hard she’ll have bruises, and she’s relishing every moment. She’s still tingling with the afterglow of her last orgasm, so the grinding of his hard length inside her is so _much,_ so much that she can’t breathe. 

Soon Katie is keening, her fingers scratching down his back roughly; even over his shirt, she thinks he’ll have faint red lines tomorrow. She’s so close, and Travis is mouthing at her jaw and whispering in her ear but she’s so close she can’t be bothered to try and understand the words and he’s hitting just the right spot with every thrust now and rubbing her clit furiously and she’s whimpering and gasping and _so, so close_ —

She moans his name softly as she seizes up, her orgasm crackling through her violently, waves of electricity coursing from her arched spine to the tips of her fingers and toes and leaving her trembling. He fucks her through it, slower, more gently, and he watches her face intensely. He always does, she’s noticed—every time she expects him to be too far gone himself, but he never fails to give her his full attention, staring at her in awe as she comes like it’s something he wants to memorize, something precious. 

“Katie, fuck, you’re— _I can’t_ —fuck, _fuck_ ,” he’s muttering now. She presses her heels into the small of his back and thrusts harder against him, knowing he tends to babble when he’s about to come. “I’m— _shit, Katie,_ I’m close, I can’t— _fuck,_ you’re so good, feel so good… _Katie,_ ” he pleads, looking into her eyes desperately. She grips his hair tightly with one hand.

“Come on, Travis,” she whispers into his ear. “Just let go. _Let go._ ”

His groan is stifled as he buries his head in her neck and bites, his hips jerking sporadically and shoulders tensing under her fingers. His hips snap up into hers and he lets out a harsh breath, and then he’s panting into her neck and she feels a new flood of warmth deep inside her as he comes.

Pressing a gentle kiss to his sweat-dampened temple, Katie thinks she can maybe understand his love for watching her come apart. 

They stay like that, with Travis’s cock softening inside her, her legs still wrapped around his waist as her hands card soothingly through his hair, their chests heaving together and cheeks reddened with exertion, for a few minutes or a few hours—Katie’s still coming down off her own high and can’t quite tell, but he’s warm and his hands are gliding up and down her sides and she doesn’t want it to end. 

But he can’t support her much longer, so he slips out of her and sets her down gently on wobbly legs. He pulls his boxers and jeans up, refastening the belt with trembling hands, and tosses the condom in a nearby trash can before they both collapse onto the wooden bench beside them. Travis’s back rests against the wall and Katie curls into his lap, nuzzling her face lightly against neck and breathing him in. Her forehead is glistening with sweat, as is his, and her bangs are plastered against it every which way, but he brushes her hair back and presses a kiss to it anyway. It’s impossibly sweet, and Katie’s eyes drift shut as she leans into him. She presses her ear harder against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it slows. She likes the sound of it, she finds. It calms her, the steady rhythm syncing with her own heart and lulling her until she’s dozing, enveloped in the warmth of his arms. There’s nowhere in the entire world she’d rather be.

Except, perhaps, in a bed.

“Travis,” she mumbles against his shirt.

“Mmph?” is his reply, sleepy and sated, and she smiles, contentedness bubbling up in her and taking her over so suddenly she finds herself at a loss.

She’s not in love with him, she decides—she sighs as his fingers start to play with the strap of her dress and trace patterns on the bare skin of her shoulder—but she’s certainly not far from it. She’s not entirely sure when Travis went from “the boy behind her in class who tugs on her braid and smirks infuriatingly” to “the boy she’s dangerously close to falling in love with,” but here they are.

(Perhaps, she thinks, he’s always been both of those things.)

She’s at the edge of a precipice and it’s far, far too late to turn back now, so she supposes she may as well jump. Not tonight, maybe. But soon. Until then, she’s happy to teeter precariously at the brink.

“We should go home,” she says at last. He nods, knowing, of course, that she means his apartment that he shares with his younger brother. Katie’s own house is shared with four other girls, and neither of them fancy trying to sneak back into the room she shares with Miranda at whatever ungodly hour of the night it is. Not to mention, having Miranda there puts a bit of a damper on the cuddling.

Slowly they manage to force themselves to their feet, Travis stooping at the last second to snatch Katie’s discarded panties off the ground and tuck them into his pocket. He grins cheekily at the glare she sends him, and she knows there’s no point in arguing with him now. She’ll just have to grab them in the morning, and she’s sure there are a few other pairs of hers lying around his bedroom somewhere.

“You know,” he sighs, “this may have been a bad idea after all.”

Katie frowns up at him quizzically. Had it not been as good for him as she’d thought it was?

Then he smiles, and she relaxes a little. “I’m never gonna be able to be down here again without thinking about fucking you against that wall.”

Katie bursts into tired laughter, and he follows suit. “Good,” she giggles, “every game I’ll just be thinking of you, sitting down here, helplessly turned on.”

His arm wraps around her waist and pulls her close. “Wicked woman,” he murmurs against her lips.

“It was your idea to come down here in the first place,” she whispers back and kisses him quickly. “I’m just taking advantage.”

With his arm draped comfortably around her waist, the two of them stroll exhaustedly out of the baseball field and, at Katie’s insistence, walk the few blocks to Travis’s apartment.

(“But I’m tired,” he whines. “I don’t care about fresh air. How can you even _want_ to walk right now?”

“Maybe you should’ve worked harder,” she snarks back.

He only scoffs. “Pretty sure I just fucked your brains out, Gardner.”

“I guess we’ll see tomorrow morning.”)

When they finally reach his bedroom, Travis shucks off his shoes, jeans, and shirt and collapses into his bed face first. Katie rolls her eyes at him, but she only has the energy to wipe her makeup off (she started carrying makeup remover wipes in her purse after the third time she ended up spending the night with him unexpectedly; her skin did _not_ thank her those first few mornings) and throw her hair into a loose braid before changing into one of his old shirts and dropping into the bed beside him. 

Travis is already sprawled comfortably, so Katie maneuvers her body around his expertly so they could both fit in a wild array of tangled limbs. They aren’t particularly “cute” sleepers, and any attempts at spooning inevitably end up with one elbowing or kicking the other until they both end up spread out anyway. After a few tries, they'd decided it’s just easier to start out that way.

As she starts to drift off, the sweet siren call of sleep finally tugging her under, Katie feels her hand being lifted gently. Travis’s lips brush delicately over each of her knuckles, pressing featherlight kisses so as not to wake her. 

“Goodnight, Katie-cat,” he whispers, so softly she almost misses it. She’s glad the darkness hides her smile.

Maybe she’s already tripped over that edge; she certainly feels like she’s in free fall.

—

Searching through Travis’s laundry the next morning, she starts to rethink that.

“What did you do with them?” she asks for the third time, but Travis only shrugs unhelpfully from the doorway.

“I put them in my pocket. You saw me!”

God, he’s infuriating. “Yes,” she says through gritted teeth, “but they aren’t there now. Are you sure you didn’t move them?”

“Honestly, I forgot I had them. They must’ve fallen out or something.” His tone is apologetic as he rubs the back of his neck, but his sheepish grin is a little too entertained for Katie’s liking.

She stands and marches over to him, trying to hide the wince of pain that flickers across her face and forcing herself not to limp. She’s incredibly sore from last night but refuses to give him the satisfaction, especially now.

“Travis Stoll,” she growls, fixing him with her most frightening glare, “I’m going to murder you. And it will be slow. And _painful_. And _publicly humiliating._ ”

A nervous flush has crept up his neck and across his face now— _good,_ Katie thinks, pointedly ignoring how much she loves his rosy cheeks—and he starts backing into the hall.

“I didn’t mean to lose them,” he explains, “I don’t know how they even could’ve fallen out—I’ll buy you a new pair! Nice ones.”

Katie pauses at that. She’s backed him all the way into the tiny kitchen.

“And you swear you won’t steal them? You'll actually buy them?”

“I swear.”

“On?”

“On…on my entire collection of Pokemon cards.” Knowing how serious that is, Katie relents with a nod, and he relaxes. “What color do you want?”

Katie smirks coyly up at him, her fingers tugging at the edge of his shirt that she still wears. It brushes the tops of her thighs, and she sees his eyes flicker down to her legs appreciatively. “That’s up to you. Whatever color you think looks best on me. Or,” she adds, her voice dropping a little, “on your floor.”

The adams apple bobs in Travis’s throat and his eyes widen. Katie bites her lip a little, and suddenly he’s all around her, everywhere—his hand sliding up her thighs and tugging on her braid, his chest pressed against her own, his lips trailing kisses up her neck, his teeth nipping at her lip where her own had been.

Katie whimpers into his mouth when he rucks the shirt up and grips her ass, already feeling the heat blooming in her core. She stretches onto her tip toes to kiss him harder, and her fingers are scratching lightly down his bare chest, and—

A cough from behind Travis startles them apart.

Seated at the table with a bowl of cereal and a mug of coffee is a half-amused, half-awkward looking Connor.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, not looking particularly sorry at all to Katie. “I just figured I’d better say something before you guys decided to start going at it on the counter.”

Katie blushes brightly. She tugs the hem of her— _Travis’s,_ she remembers, blushing harder—shirt down, trying to cover as much skin as possible. In this same vein, she steps further behind Travis. She’s known Connor almost as long as she’s known his brother; the two were practically inseparable, and while Katie had initially found him as irksome as Travis, she’d quickly come to appreciate the differences between the two. She and Connor get along surprisingly well and team up more often than not to make a plethora of jokes at Travis’s expense whenever they see each other.

Somehow, none of this makes her feel any better about getting caught mostly-naked and with his brother's tongue down her throat, and she’s so flustered and positively mortified at her own lack of clothing and inhibitions that she can’t even begin to formulate a comeback or flippant remark. She settles for hiding behind Travis and letting him take on his brother. 

“You’re just jealous I’m getting more action than you’ve seen in weeks,” is the reply he settles on, and while it’s not as cutting as Katie would prefer, she figures that’s the sort of thing guys find insulting. 

(And it’s not like she has anything better to offer up, since her brain is currently alternating between screaming _OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD_ and whispering unnerving questions about how far the shirt had ridden up and whether Connor had accidentally gotten an eyeful of…something. _OH MY GOD._ )

Connor only snorts at Travis. “I was about to see a whole lot of action, actually, but I really, really didn’t want to see that kind,” he answers. His eyebrow arches and the the corner of his lips tugs upward before he takes a long sip of his coffee.

“Okay,” Katie squeaks, having regained control over her vocal chords again. “I’m gonna, um, put some clothes on and pretend this never happened.”

She turns on her heel and walks as quickly as she can back towards Travis’s room, muttering curses under her breath the whole time.

“Nice limp, Gardner!” Connor calls behind her, and Travis laughs triumphantly.

Katie sticks her middle finger in their direction and slams the door behind her.

—

Four days later, Travis presents Katie with two poorly wrapped gifts.

“What are these for?” she asks softly.

“Can’t I give my stunningly beautiful girlfriend a couple presents just because I want to?” 

She rolls her eyes before glancing back at the packages, suddenly suspicious. “Is one of these going to explode or something? Travis, I swear, if this is some prank—”

“It’s not!” he yelps, laughing. “It’s not, I swear, just…open them. That one first.” He gestures to the one on the right, wrapped in blue paper.

Cautiously—he seemed to be telling the truth, but you can never be sure with a Stoll—she unwraps it, and stares down at—

“My underwear?” Travis nods. They’re the pair she’d lost, that had fallen out of his pocket. “But…where…?”

“Well,” Travis explains, his face taking on a pink tinge, “turns out they fell out of my pocket before we even left the dugout. So we ended up in there during practice yesterday, and Percy spotted…well, blue, so I, um, I grabbed them before anybody had time to really…figure out what they were.”

Katie stares at him, wide-eyed. “You…grabbed them? In front of the team?”

“Yeah, but—”

“So the _whole team_ knows my underwear were in the dugout?”

Travis’s eyes widen as her cheeks redden in anger. “It wasn’t the whole team, and I don’t think they saw what they—”

“Travis,” she growls, her teeth gritted and underwear balled in her fist. “There was a blue. Scrap of fabric. On the ground. That you rushed— _rushed_ —to grab and hide. What do you think they assumed it was?”

He swallows and shifts nervously where he’s seated cross-legged opposite her on his bed. _Good,_ Katie thinks. _He should be nervous._

“I told them it was a bandana I lost during our last practice,” he rushed. “The only person who didn’t believe me was Connor, but he didn’t say anything, he just gave me a look.” 

Katie takes a deep breath. That was believable enough of a lie, she supposes. And Connor’s already seen so much that this one thing doesn’t seem so bad. 

“Okay,” she sighs at last, and Travis lets out a breath. “You’re off the hook. For now. But if I hear anything—”

“You won’t,” he assures her. “Now you should open the other one.”

She does, and she lets out a soft exclamation at the lacy dark green fabric she finds. She’s always suspected he liked this color on her best and is delighted that her suspicions are confirmed. She beams up at him and finds him watching her with a smile.

“They’re lovely,” she says, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you. Although, technically, you didn’t really have to get me any since you found my other pair.”

He laughs, and she feels it in her spine. “I bought these three days ago, so it was already too late. Besides,” his voice drops, “the idea of getting to pick something out for you was way too enticing to pass up.”

“Please, feel free to do it whenever you—” she teases, but his hands are cupping her face and pulling her up to meet his lips. His tongue teases at the seam of her lips until she opens under him, and then he’s licking into her mouth and pulling back, tugging her lower lip with his teeth the way he knows she likes.

By the time he pulls away she’s dazed and breathless, nuzzling into his warm hands.

“You know,” he whispers, his voice rasping in his throat, “those are actually part of a set, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it’d look as good on you as I thought it would, so I went ahead and got the matching bra, too.”

A playful grin tugs at Katie’s mouth, and she hops off the bed to stand.

“Well, why don’t we test your theory?”


End file.
